


With You Always

by hoosierbitch



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Dom/sub, Fisting, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Porn, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur goes off on a trip while Merlin stays in Camelot. Only, Merlin's not very good at being left behind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daria234](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=daria234).



"Oh, come on! It's a long trip, and the courtesy Denthor shows to his guests is legendary. You can hardly expect me to decline it!" Merlin's eyes blazed yellow and Arthur lost his words in a swell of lust. He didn't have time to tell Merlin he'd been joking - really, he was - before invisible hands grabbed his limbs and held him stretched across the mattress.

They stretched their goodbyes into the dark hours of morning, and when they rode out of the courtyard at dawn Merlin's jealous gaze followed them.

*

It started on the third day. Light touches against the back of his neck when there was no wind and no one near him. Feather-light kisses on his neck, behind his ear, in the small of his back. He dismissed it as pointless longing for Merlin's touch. They hadn't been apart this long before - his mind was just playing tricks on him. He ignored it as best he could.

That night when he jerked off in his tent he imagined he could feel Melin's fingers intertwined with his. Stroking his cock, urging him to squeeze tighter, pull faster, to keep going after he'd come until it _hurt_ and he was groaning with pain more than pleasure.

It wasn't just in his head.

*

On the fourth day, a few hours into their ride, he was suddenly full. It was as if Merlin's cock was somehow attached to his saddle and each stride his stallion took thrust it further inside him - he tensed, looked around wildly, bit his lip to keep from moaning - and then felt the pressure of lips against his. A push inside his mouth even though his teeth were closed _-__Merlin_.

It grew. They had hours more of riding and whatever Merlin was doing inside of him - whatever phantom form he'd magicked into Arthur's body, it was getting bigger. His cock was hard and dripping inside his trousers, his breath knocked out of him with each movement, sweat dripped down his back. When he dismounted he thought it would go away. That it was somehow tied to the saddle or the horse or the movement of his steps but - no. He dismounted, felt whatever was inside of him press against his prostate harder than was honestly pleasurable, and leaned against his steed as he came.

It stayed in him until he was in his tent, under his bedroll, wrapping his hand around his soaked cock - and then it faded.

*

He had no idea where they were the entire fifth day. He ignored any attempts his fellow knights made at conversation, was completely oblivious to the passing scenery - hell, he barely managed to stay on his horse. It was back, and it was - it was like Merlin's fingers, impossibly far inside him, spreading and rubbing and squeezing, withdrawing to tease at his hole and then press inside again -

He knew there was nothing there. The presence had no heat, no texture, it was not wet or hot or hard, but he felt the fabric of his small-clothes rub uncomfortably against his rim, inside his hole, as the fingers spread him wide and held him open. They ate lunch in the saddle because he couldn't bear the idea of dismounting and making small-talk over sandwiches while precum dripped out of him, spreading inside his trousers. He'd never been more grateful for the cover his armor provided.

He came twice before they made camp that night, and then again more before he fell asleep.

*

That next night it didn't fade. Instead, he heard the familiar pop in the air of Merlin casting a silencing spell. He looked at the door of his tent, stupidly expecting Merlin to enter and kiss him and laugh about what a joke he'd played on Arthur. But Merlin wasn’t there.

Instead, he was stripped by invisible hands. They weren't gentle. Whatever concentration Merlin could spare for delicacy was saved for the fingers he had inside of Arthur. When he was naked, they turned him onto his stomach and pressed his head to the ground. Spread his knees far apart and held him there.

He didn't know how long Merlin held him like that. Left him alone until he tried to move and then bands like iron held him down, wrapped around his lungs until he couldn't breathe, until his vision blurred and then - faded. Hours, probably. His thighs were shaking, his cock soft, sweat dripping down his spine, the hair at the back of his neck damp. Hours, and then – oh, god.

They'd done it once before. With a full container of lotion and hours of foreplay, with Merlin whispering in his ear and sucking his cock and slowly, inch by inch, working his entire hand inside of him. It had been - it had been hard. Not the actual physical process of it, which hadn't hurt so much as it burned, but the - the letting go. Having to leave himself open and relaxed and trust Merlin to be...gentle with him. Needing Merlin to take his time, and ask Arthur over and over if he was sure, did it hurt, how did it feel, Arthur, _Arthur, you're so strong, can't believe you can take this,__look__at you-___  
  
This time, there was no lube. But then, there was no friction. There were no more phantom kisses on the back of his neck, no invisible fingers on his cock, no sense that this was Merlin - his Merlin - just pressure. It would inflate inside of him and then vanish to appear again inside of him, only _deeper_ \- his hole was closed but inside of him, oh, God it was so big, too big, he choked on the sobs Merlin worked from him.

There was a silencing spell, yes, but there was no spell that would hide him or disguise him. The flap of the tent didn't lock, anyone could walk in and see - see him spread by an invisible lover. His hole gaping wide and growing, his cock dripping precum steadily. And still the pressure grew.

He screamed into his bedroll and thrust back - but Merlin wasn't there, there was no body to push against, the frantic motion of his hips did nothing. He kept rutting back anyway. There was no one to see how badly he wanted more, no one to see how completely Merlin undid him - not even Merlin was there to see it and it gave him a terrifying freedom. He didn't hold back.

At first, it felt like Merlin's hand. And then - and then it felt like two.

Two wrists against his rim, two sets of knuckles rubbing against his flesh, ten fingers pressing against his prostate, _squeezing_ it – he’d never done that before. He convulsed, breath shuddering, sweat dripping off his body.

Merlin wasn't holding him down anymore so he rolled onto his back, thighs screaming from being stretched too far too long, knees aching from the hard ground, and _still _Merlin pressed deeper.

When he looked down his torso he could see it. See his body stretch to accommodate, oh, _gods_, he could see the swell of Merlin’s imaginary hands inside of him, was swept away by how intense and wrong and overwhelming it felt as Merlin carelessly demanded _more._  
_  
Merlin, how can you - where are you -_ "Merlin!"

And it stopped. It left, and he looked at himself and the only movement in his body was his lungs panting for air, his thighs shaking as they tried to close, precum still spilling from his cock. He felt - empty. Abandoned.

"Merlin - fuck, come back, I'm sorry - I'll do better. I can take it, I want it, come back."

He'd been hurt worse. Dozens of times. In war and training and tournaments, it was nothing new. _(But Merlin had never hurt him. Merlin cleaned him up and bandaged him and rubbed ointment on his bruises, Merlin who had strength Arthur couldn't even comprehend had never - )___

He was strong enough to take whatever Merlin gave him. There was no shame in submitting, but there was shame in failure. And he'd never backed down from a fight before.

Then there was pressure, like the tip of a finger against his check. It was wet, and none of Merlin's touches had been wet before. He realized he'd been crying. "Don't be such a girl, Merlin, I'm fine - "

And he didn't know if Merlin could hear him, he guessed that Merlin could see him, but suddenly there were fingers in his mouth to stop him from saying anything more. Pressing his tongue down, keeping his lips parted, stroking his cheeks. And there were lips - lips and teeth teasing at his neck, biting into his collarbone, on both of his nipples at the same time.

With every movement he made, his ass ached. When he pressed his chest up to get Merlin to bite harder, it started to hurt. By the time the fingers left his mouth and the teeth around his nipples had left them sore and peaked and a dark, angry red - by then he realized Merlin was sorry.

"It's okay," he said clearly, hoping Merlin would read his lips. "It's okay."

He knew the shape of Merlin's hands. The width of his palms, his skinny fingers, the sure, firm grip. Merlin jerked him off quickly, efficiently, and when Arthur came - he'd been hard for hours, ages, since he'd left Merlin behind - he cried out Merlin's name.

He cleaned himself up. Wiped off the mess from his stomach, sorted out the bedroll, and told himself to go to sleep. After an hour of staring blankly at the tent wall an arm wrapped around his chest. Merlin's knees pressed against the back of his legs. Merlin's chin hooked over his shoulder. And he fell asleep.


End file.
